


Bad Trouble

by Threadbear



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everybody Lives, M/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threadbear/pseuds/Threadbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was right of course – it’s almost unbearable. Almost.</p>
<p>It's been four years since the Battle of Hogwarts and Severus Snape is content to continue with his life alone and unbothered though it looks like Harry Potter is not going to let that happen and maybe a little blast from the past might not be all that unwelcome.<br/>Sirius Black just gets through each day the best way he knows how, though having a friend to share that with might be okay too. He just wouldn't have believed that person could be Snape. This could be trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I couldn’t imagine anything more utterly nauseating,” Severus Snape tells Harry Potter at Harry’s fifth insistence that he join him with the others at Black Manor. They meet, apparently, monthly, to talk and catch up. It helps, Harry says, which seems unlikely.

It had been four years since the end of the war (three since he’d been allowed back at work, and two since the pain had ceased to keep him up at night). And 6 is it? 6 years then since he’s been obligated to sit in a room with those do-gooding morons. Besides, of course, Potter, who had ingratiated himself into Snape’s life with such unwanted ease that he often wondered if Harry wouldn’t have made a far better spy than himself. Yet, when at the sixth invitation Snape tells Harry to go fuck himself just to see what would happen, and it only makes him more insistent, Snape finally decides to give in. He was right of course – it’s almost unbearable. Almost.

Of course him. Always him. He of the infuriatingly long denimed legs, condescending smile, crooked in a way that makes your heart clench. Not entirely due to chance this is the first time he’s seen Black since his widely publicised and much speculated upon return from the veil. If he was someone else he may even have felt sorry for him that, for the level of personal intrusion he had been subjected to, he had gone through all that himself but nowhere near to the same degree. Actually, he had even been thankful at the time that all the press coverage about Black had somewhat taken the spotlight off of himself. There’s no denying it wasn’t fascinating, he had read every article, every “in-depth” speculative hack piece with as much relish as anyone else.

He had seen him immediately when he entered the drawing room, and the electric jolt of recognition that followed unsettled him even more than he already was. Beforehand he’d convinced himself that Black would look terrible and anyway it’d been too long for him to care and it had helped somewhat. But he actually looks good, really good, and it _does_ annoy him. He tries to pretend he doesn’t see him, and by the look of it Black is doing the same. For a while it’s easy because the room is full and he’s never left alone for more than a few seconds anyway.

Of course, Black still has all the self-control of a three month old puppy and eventually this evidently becomes too much for him. “Jeesus, look who the cat dragged in, you’re not still alive are you?” He says to him finally just as Snape had finally managed to shake off Molly and Arthur Weasley.

“Hello Black. I could say the same about you. I was so enjoying those years we all thought you were dead. Shame.”

And though he’s not lying (the years sans Sirius Black have indeed been pleasant) the lack of pretence he finds is a welcome relief. He had quickly tired of answering mundane but well-meaning questions and of Harry and Ginny hovering like anxious flies; his feet ached and he wished desperately to be back in his rooms with a book and a cup of tea. Black didn’t give a shit how he was and that was okay with him.

“So,” says Black, “which of these shit bags did _you_ have to piss off to get roped in to this?”

“Well, indeed, I would rather be home inserting forks in to my eye, but Potter was most…insistent.”

“Incessant little prick more like, I bet. It’s not exactly my choice to spend Friday nights hosting these group circle jerks I can tell you. But it’s good for me apparently.”

“Oh I don’t know Black I wouldn’t complain, that’s about the only jerk you’ll be getting from anyone these days I’d guess.”

“That’s rich coming from you Snape, have you actually managed to go and get your self even uglier? Holy hell I wouldn’t have believed that was possible.” Black laughs out loud. “Goddamn. I think I’ve missed this! All I get these days is “Are you ok Sirius?” ”Can I do that for you Sirius?” “Haven’t killed yourself yet have you, Sirius?”

Snape is surprised into laughter at the last bit; he’s amazed he’s still capable of it.

“We all live in hope Black.” He says but he’s unable to keep the smile from his face and the insult lacks its old bite.

Black smiles at him, yeah I guess so, he says. Snape keeps eye contact longer than necessary, he suddenly finds he needs to assure himself that the man is whole and intact.

“Jesus.” Black shakes his head.

He knows what he means.

 

Black catches him as he tries to leave unnoticed at around 9, most of the guests are several drinks in and it’s easy enough for a man who knows how not to be seen.

“Catch you around Snape.”

“Not if I can help it Black. I’m as likely to come back to one of these things as you are to… engage in gainful employment.”

Black puts out his cigarette on the concrete stoop where he’s sitting and squints up at him through a mane of dark hair. “Shame.” He says.

Weird, Snape thinks as he leaves. What a strange evening.

Next month Potter only has to ask once.

 

After awhile Snape’s the only one who is still hanging around, the rest have lives to get on with and the ridiculous evenings peter off, then dry up all together. They’re not friends exactly, no he couldn’t bear it, but everyone else Black knows has partnered up, and moved on, and Snape, well he never had anyone to begin with. Besides the cocktail of whiskey and pain potions that now keep him such close company. Ironic that Black and he would come to share such similar interests. The thing is, is that it feels calmer when he’s there with him, with this man as broken as him, who too courted death, and then was rejected by it. They still can barely hold a cordial conversation, but they do sit and they do drink, and it’s good in a way that doing this by yourself never is and when he can’t go there it feels noisier. With this man who has broken his skin many times, with his fist, with his wand, who’s blood, in turn, has been on him. Years of bickering, constant attention paid have brought them an ease in each other’s presence.

And when he doesn’t make it during their usual times, Black owls him. He hasn’t stopped yet to consider what this means. _They talk about us_ , Black confides in him one day, _they think we’ve gone mad_. He shrugs back, its not new information.

Sometimes Black owls him and it’s the middle of the night, _bored where are you_. He comes anyway. The short leash Blacks got him on doesn’t worry him, he has no expectations, no hopes, he’s perfectly clear.

Still. Fucking Lupin. Two months ago. Lupin’s there when he arrives, Black looks up expectantly, holds out his hands while Snape lobs him the pack of cigarettes he’s picked up on the way. Black pours firewhiskey into a glass and slides it over to his left while Snape sits down, catching it just in time. They do all this without speaking. Snape looks up just in time to see that Lupin’s face is pinched. Good, he thinks, he’s mine, get your own. He quickly checks himself. Thoughts like that could get him in trouble.

But usually he can ignore that part, he’s gotten really good at ignoring that part.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get complicated...

In late spring, Minerva hires Bill Weasley as the new Arithmancy professor, she had asked his opinion and Severus had given his support, remembers him as being not particularly stupid, and reasonably non-irritating, which, given his family, is no small miracle. This turns out to be a mistake. Bill is capable and smart – and sexy as hell.

Also, Bill does not like Sirius. Snape’s not got much experience with these things but he’s rather a good reader of people and he thinks yes, he’s right, Bill definitely does not like Sirius. (Why Sirius now? It’s always been Black. He’ll have to watch that).

Really, it’s inexplicable why he would even care. Bill is much younger and he likes people and people like him, and Bill seems to like _him_ specifically. Surely he could get someone less old, less curmudgeonly, to fuck him up against his desk after class, and, on weekends, in their rooms. He’s actually starting to think Bill might be rather lazy. (Black’s lazy. Or rather _loungy_ in that way of his, like nothings ever worth getting bothered by. He’s still kept that, after all that’s happened). Bill though. Did he mention Bill is sexy? Well he is. Right now for instance, spread across his desk. So fucking young, Christ. It feels wrong. He shouldn’t be forcing Bill’s head down with his palm like this, and running his hand, real slow, over that baby white ass like he’s doing. He definitely shouldn’t smack it hard enough to tint it pink like he’s about to do. Bill makes a breathy ‘ugh’ sound just like he knew he would.

The kid’s not right in the head.

 

But usually he tries not to think too much about it. If the man’s too lazy to meet someone else, or has some deeper self-esteem issues, that’s really his problem and frankly he doesn’t really care. If he’s honest he enjoys the company and – God help him – all the sneaking around is the most excitement he’s had in years. He’s even started drinking less, and he thinks this is what healthy functional people must feel like. He doesn’t see Black any less, but, despite Bill’s obvious dislike, he doesn’t see this as a problem, or indeed a conflict of interest. He fucks one and drinks with the other, it really is very simple.

He’s on his way over to see Black, as he usually does of a Friday night, only stopping by his office momentarily to drop off the Advanced Potions marking from his last class of the day.

He was thinking about the upcoming exams and wondering how it was possible that the children get stupider every year, and at first he doesn’t notice Weasley sitting on his chair with his feet up on his desk. He sets the parchments right next to Bill’s bare feet, confirming that the rest of him is indeed just as bare.

“Weasley. What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Um what does it look like professor. I mean, I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

Snape sighs. “You really can’t keep doing this, someone will notice.”

“I’m very careful.”

“Yes I bet you are,” he tells him. “Get up.”

“Come here.” He orders. Black can wait, it will annoy him and the thought of this puts a smirk on his face as he shrugs out of his robes.

 

Why did Remus invite _him_ anyway? He’s not one of them. It just makes it awkward.

He looks over and catches Harry laughing conspiratorially in the corner with Bill Weasley. Look, even Harry is having to pretend he likes him.

He could just leave, for once they’re not at his place, he doesn’t need to be here. But he finds he just can’t do it, he _has_ to see more.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Over his glass of beer he watches Bill say something to Harry and walk over to Snape. Again.

Ugh, he thinks as he watches Weasley attempt to make conversation, how pathetic, he hates that.

But to his horror Snape smiles. He knows that smile. That’s his smile. The traitorous bastard then turns and _whispers_ something in Weasley’s ear. Did he just wink? _Wink?_ Fuck this.

Something clicks into place but he tries to ignore it. _How often has he been late to see you lately?_ Shut up. He tears his eyes away and makes his way to Lupin’s kitchen where he knows he keeps something stronger than the piss weak beer he’s been serving tonight, which he knows is for his benefit. He’s not a fucking child, he thinks petulantly as he reaches back into the top shelf of the pantry.

 

Snape knows they should be more careful, but it had felt nice to let his guard down for an evening. It’s not as if they were advertising anything anyway, and it would have been strange if they had ignored each other, they work together for Christ’s sake. And no one had noticed anything so it was all fine. Well, they hadn’t before… well that part was an error of judgement.

It was just a quick kiss on the way back from the bathroom, nothing more. He hadn’t been able to resist grabbing him in the hall and pulling him into the study; Bill was looking especially good  tonight in that tight dark shirt and that ridiculous thin muggle tie. When Black walks in he pulls away guiltily, he doesn’t quite go so far as to shove Bill away from him but he almost does. He first thought is _fuck, you fucked up, he’s not going to want to know you now you old queen_ , and Black just blinks once at them then turns and walks straight out.

His second thought is absurdly, _where’d he get that whiskey?_

Its not that bad, Bill is saying, they had to find out sometime. He should probably respond but he can’t think how to.

“Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

“Hmm? Oh yes. Absolutely.” He should probably smile, he thinks, so he does, adding: “We should go in.”

“Ok.” Bill says, and he looks confused but that was the best he could do, he could have responded much worse. He’ll make it up to him, he thinks.

When they get back in Black is making a scene. He’s laughing too loud and his large overfilled glass is splashing over the sides.

Snape rolls his eyes, it’s so typically _Black_ , he always did love to be the centre of attention. Pathetic and infantile. He suddenly wants for it to be just he and Black, wants them all to leave. He wants to stop them all from looking at him like that. He’s too good for you, he thinks, apropos of nothing. _Oh God, when did I get so drunk?_ In the end he’s so very lucky that Harry swoops in when he does because he was about to…what _would_ he have done?

“Is that the time?” Harry yelps, “Sirius you’re staying with me remember mate? We have breakfast plans, and if you’re not at our table bright eyed and bushy tailed first thing tomorrow morning they’ll be hell to pay. Ginny’s been bugging me all week.” Harry widens his eyes at Lupin behind Sirius’s back, technically that was all bullshit, but only technically as Ginny really would love to see him. He knows Ginny loves Sirius as much as he does, they all do. When he’s not being aggressively drunk he is as much a joy to be around as he ever was. Still charming, warm and wickedly funny, he draws people to him, and draws them out, makes them feel that they are funny and confident too just by being around him.

Thankfully Sirius comes easily, almost like he’d been waiting for an excuse to leave, and perhaps he had, Harry can’t quite shake the feeling he’d missed something. They floo back to his place and Harry has to half carry Sirius up the stairs to the spare bedroom as quietly as they can, which is in fact not quietly at all, Harry is not exactly sober himself. He tucks Sirius in after removing his shoes and jeans as best he could while they’re both laughing so much Harry has to whisper _shhh, Ginny!_ before dissolving again into fits of giggles.

“Shh, Harry,” Sirius drunk whispers. “Harry come here, I’m going to tell you a secret.” He crooks his finger and giggles.

“I’m going to destroy him Harry. He can’t fuck with me. I will win.”

“Jesus Sirius, who in the hell are we talking about here?” But Sirius just laughs again, then passes out.

Oh shit, Harry thinks, I really did miss something.

 

Bill suggests they walk back to Hogwarts, through Diagon Alley, and he agrees. He really is quite drunk and a walk would clear his head.

“So what was that back there?” Bill asks before Severus realises he’s walked right into a trap. If he were sober he would have known to avoid it.

“Severus I saw your face when he walked in – you looked well, horrified. And I’m sure you saw Black, he looked like he was going to – “

“Weasley.” Snape says, spinning him around so he’s up against the wall, he pins him in place circling his trim waist easily with one hand. “I was just surprised that’s all, I couldn’t care less who sees us, let them see.”

And he finds he means it, really, if this thing he has with Black is dependent on him being straight, being one of the guys, then as much as it would pain him, (and _god_ would it) he just couldn’t do it.

And just to remind himself who he is with, of everything he has right in front of him now he says in Bill’s ear using his best professor voice, “Weasley you do look really very good tonight. Those trousers are obscenely tight, I really do think we should get you out of them.”

He hears him whimper softly.

“Oh dear.” He says pressing up against him, “Weasley are you hard? Maybe I should just fuck you right here then hmm? Would you like that? Right here with everyone watching?”

“Nngh.” He feels him get harder pressed against him, just like he knew he would, he really is deliciously easy to manipulate.

“What’s that?” He says.

“No.” Bill gasps out. “Take me home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Take me home and fuck me.”

“That’s what I thought.” And he adds as an afterthought, “come along Weasley don’t dither, and when we get to my rooms you may want to remember to cast a decent silencing spell this time, you’re going to need it.”

“Arrgh you couldn’t have waited till we got closer to say that? I’m trying to walk!” Which makes Snape laugh heartily as they make their way down Diagon Alley.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus has it coming...

_And there is no hunger and there is no pain._

_Or, there is only hunger and there is only pain._

_Maybe. It doesn’t matter._

_All that matters is the grey._

_Limitless, uncompromising, terrible. It gets in his eyes, in his teeth, in his mind._

_Grey._

_Grey, grey, grey…_

_grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey grey greyg reyg reyg reygreygreyg…_

_And after awhile it’s like death._

 ....

 

“Don’t do it Severus.”

They’re having this fight again. Over the past few months a mild dislike has grown to active disapproval, which has escalated to threats and heated arguments every time he leaves to see _him,_ as Black is now called.

“Don’t threaten me Weasley. And as usual you’re being ridiculous.” He gets it, he really does, but he has no choice.

“I’m being ridiculous? Really? It’s ridiculous to ask to not have to share you with _him_? Really Severus? That’s what you’re going with?”

“I’m not having this conversation. You know my position.”

“Oh yes, your _position_. What was that again? This isn’t a relationship Weasley, It’s just sex Weasley. My friendship with Black has nothing to do with you Weasley. Well my _position_ is that if I let someone fuck me whenever they want, whenever it’s _convenient_ for _them_ , they should actually spend some fucking time with me and not be at the constant beck and call of their secret fucking crush!"

Snape can’t really counter that, of course he’s right. It was the timing he supposes, where he really stuffed up. He’d just pulled out of Weasley, having just come, having just fucked the boy till he was screaming, when that damned owl turned up. The thing had been able to find him in Weasley’s room for a while now, which evidently was too much power to allow something with such little brain. _Come urgently_ , it said. And though he’d made sure Bill hadn’t seen, of course he’d known.

“Asshole!” Weasley is screaming at him and also shoving himself angrily into his trousers.

“Bill, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you. Don’t sweetheart me. Don’t go Severus, I’m warning you.”

“I told you, don’t threaten me.”

“The fuck I won’t. I tell you what, I’ll make it real easy. You go and that’s it. We’re done.”

“Don’t do this Weasley.” He warns.

“Are you going?”

Severus says nothing but pulls on his coat. This is non-negotiable. He’d do anything else but this, why isn’t that enough?

“Severus you just fucked this. You just fucked us. I hope it’s worth it.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

Bill just screams and throws a nearby shoe at him.

 

“Black what is it?”

“What is what you daft old prick.”

“What is so fucking urgent you idiot. You owled me in case you have forgotten.”

“Did I? Well it must have been fucking important for you to rush all the way over here. Did you at least bring cigarettes?” There’s a tell-tale slur to his speech, but even if there wasn’t the smell would have given him away.

“You might have said.”

“You might have died when you had the chance. Ha! As might have I...”

“Here’re your fucking cigarettes.” Snape says lobbing them on the table, he’s still worked up and angry from how he left things with Bill, knows its over for good. Knows that it would be even if Weasley would have him back; he couldn’t make that choice Bill wanted him to make, he never could.

“You’re in a fowl mood. What is it, trouble in paradise? Your boy toy stopped letting you suck his cock?”

“Piss off.” He says to disguise his surprise at how perceptive that comment was, especially because Black didn’t usually appear to notice anything about his life.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says, then smokes and pouts like only those who still have movie-star good looks at 40 can, and he acts like he’s forgotten Snape is there or that he knows he’s there but he’s of no consequence, like a waiter, or a particularly bothersome house elf. _Bugger it,_ he thinks getting up to take Black’s bottle away and fetch him a large glass of water, _why on earth did I come?_

 _You know why,_ his mind supplies helpfully.

Yes, Black’s got that glassy far away look he gets sometimes before he tries to drink himself into a coma. They don’t talk about it, but sometimes Black will want him there and that’s good. He doesn’t like to think about why he needs that.

_Liar._

Does it matter? That’s part of it, what use is the whole? It doesn’t change anything. Yes he’s weak. He’s a weak and he’s selfish. It’s the same old story, same old tune played out a thousand times. All this just to be seen. Stupid old man, he thinks. Still? After all these years?

He moves to make tea for himself and Black. Thankfully he seems to be reasonably lucid, and he aims to keep it that way. You fuck up, he thinks, look at your life. You ruin everything. Did you really think you could have something normal? You can’t even keep him from hurting himself. What use are you? He makes mental note to talk to Lupin again.

“You really must drink that water Black,” he says, “you remember what happened last time.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sev tells the truth and Sirius doesn't.

“Hi.” A stellar opener, it should go well from here.

“Hi. What are you doing here Snape?”

“I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No. Well, I just wanted to say – I needed to tell you – I’m sorry.”

“Fantastic. Now fuck off.”

“Bill – I’m trying to tell you… that is – I didn’t…I didn’t know. In the beginning I didn’t know. I’ve been lying to myself…for awhile. I didn’t mean to use you, but I did. I wish I didn’t. That’s all. You deserve a much better apology than this but I am truly sorry. You may at least take some comfort in the fact that I feel foolish and embarrassed in the extreme for my behaviour.” He looks Bill in the eye, who is most definitely not stupid and who is kind, and he hopes he will understand. If he can’t say this to Bill he can say it to no one. He has no one.

Bill keeps eye contact for long beat. “No, I don’t suppose you did.” He says quietly, and Snape’s not sure to which part he refers but it doesn’t matter.

“You don’t need to tell me, but are you and he…?”

“No. No there’s no chance of that.”

“Oh… That must be hard for you.” Bill says.

Severus shrugs. To admit so would be churlish. Yet also, how to explain this hard knot he carries that is both a burden and so intimately familiar that it is almost a comfort? How to explain that he wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world, not for anything?

“He’s not good for me.” He says, testing it out. “Not like…” us he thinks.

“I really liked you, you know.” Bill says quietly.

“Yes.” Severus almost whispers. “I really liked you too.”

“Did you? That’s good. It really didn’t seem like it sometimes. You know, I think you hurt me. Oh don’t worry I’ll get over it, I think I just wanted you to know that.”

“Bill…” He wants to reach out to him, if they could just go back to how it was before. It hurts not to touch the kid easily, he misses that already. Misses him.

“Oh, there’s nothing more to say Severus. I’m glad you could finally be honest with yourself, and with me I suppose. And… I appreciate this wouldn’t have been easy for you, knowing you… Since we have to work together I won’t treat you any different, in public. That’s all I can give you for now.” He says.

Severus shakes his head, “That’s not what I… thank you, you don’t have to – you don’t owe me anything.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

“Yes, of course. Good. You always deserved much better than an old screw up like me.”

“You’re right, I do.”

There was nothing to say, nothing to do but turn and leave.

“Ugh. Severus wait.”

Snape turns back, hesitantly. “Shit. I wouldn’t be too sure if I were you. Look. Surely you’ve realised…?” He asks. He shakes his head. “What the fuck am I doing? Nevermind.”

And when he just stands there dumbly Bill says “Sev, this doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“No.” He says. Is he supposed to know what that meant?

“You can go now.”

“Yes. Ok.” And he does. He probably runs out.

 

In the end they drag it out of him. Drag being too strong a word when he would have probably told the bar tender had he asked how his day was. However. The beer, his third, Hogsmeade’s house brew, is cold, tart and deliciously hoppy, and is going down far too easily. The table is a little sticky and smells of beer and the place is loud and busy. Bill takes a deep breath. This is good, he thinks, this is what I needed. It’s just the five of them, Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione. Ginny had organised a Friday night catch up. In hindsight it was probably an ambush.

“Why?” Blurts Ron. “Sorry – but yeah why?”

“Ron.” Said Hermione who had also quite clearly kicked him under the table.

“Sorry but he’s a good looking guy Hermione!” nodding at Bill.

“Really Ron.”

“It’s true, everyone says so! And Snape, God love the guy, but he’s no ones idea of particularly attractive… Is he?” He adds, sounding unsure.

“Ah…” Bill begins, “well he has a presence about him you know, and a confidence that’s very… –ah fuck it, yes Ron, he’s incredibly sexy. I’m serious, he’s hot.” He laughs when he sees Ron’s reaction. “Sorry brother.”

“Is this true?” Ron demands, looking back and forth between Ginny and Hermione.

Hermione looks slightly uncomfortable. “Uh some people might, uh, say so, yes.”

“Is it the voice?” asks Ginny.

“That’s definitely part of it.” Hermione agrees quickly then looks like she’d like to take it back. “Really Ron, I haven’t thought about it.”

“You’re fucking lying!” Ron laughs, “Harry!” but Harry just shrugs and laughs too.

“Of course it doesn’t hurt that he’s pretty competent in certain areas…”

“ _Really_.” Says Ginny.

Harry says, “Nice one professor,” and looks a bit proud.

“Well,” Ron says, “consider me schooled. Doesn’t just know his way around a cauldron then aye, our Professor Snape.”

“Christ.” Says Bill, “That’s terrible Ron. Honestly.”

Eventually he tells them most of it, glossing over the parts that concerned Black, not mentioning him by name. He doesn’t tell them of how, last week, just two weeks after their incredibly awkward chat, he had in a moment of madness or weakness or just plain loneliness, as much as thrown himself on the professor on the wafer thin pretence of returning a book to his rooms. The book actually may or may not have been his, well it could have been, he really couldn’t remember, obviously it was best to check. Snape had been quiet and withdrawn at dinner, and whilst he didn’t really plan it, he didn’t plan not to either. He blushes as he remembers touching Snape’s hand and biting his own lip while trying to look concerned yet sexy, and not just what he was – lonely, horny, angry probably. _Severus_ he had said, running thumb over wrist. Snape had gripped his wrist hard with his other hand, then he had fucked him, madly over his workbench and Bill knew it wasn’t him he was thinking of. Afterwards he had told Snape it could never happen again and left. He had wanted to feel powerful, in control; he had felt just the opposite.

Anyway the guys say “bastard” and “I can’t believe he could treat you like that” and he likes hearing it.

“Seriously that is shitty behaviour.” Says Ginny.

“Well.” Says Hermione.

“Well?”

“Well we know that don’t we? That Snape’s a bit of a bastard. He’s done great things but that doesn’t make him necessarily a nice person.”

Bill says, “Yeah maybe…” But _God_ he could be pretty great sometimes too, he thinks.

“So this other guy,” Ginny says. “Is he actually sleeping with him?”

“Does it matter?” Says Hermione.

“He says not. But yeah in the end it didn’t matter.”

Hermione, worryingly, looks like she’s working something out, which makes him feel bad for about a second before he remembers all those nights he’d spent alone, all those messages never ignored, those thousand yard death stares endured from _him_.

The others don’t seem to notice but Harry’s said nothing for several minutes.

When Ron declares “my round!” and gets up to fetch more of what they’ve all agreed is a very fine batch, perhaps Hogsmeade’s best, the girls also get up to use the bathroom. Ginny says something to Hermione as they leave, Bill hears _poor_ _Ron,_ and they’re both laughing as they walk off.

“My Godfather,” Harry’s says, not looking at Bill so he almost doesn’t realise he‘s talking to him, “is a very complicated man.”

Harry looks up at him then “He’s been hurt very badly. It’s been very very hard for him, harder than any of us know. He doesn’t realise when he’s hurting people, I think.”

“I wondered if you knew.”

“I didn’t, not for sure.”

“I’m sorry Harry. I wouldn’t worry too much about them. I think they know what they’re doing.”

Harry says. “Severus is… well you know by now I suppose.”

“Yeah I know by now.”

“He’s a good man. But…”

“Yes. But.”

“Look you won’t say anything will you?” He finally thinks to ask.

 

He never likes when people say ‘can we talk’, and people tend to say that all the time. Actually they did so before that place, before Azkaban, before he was a traitor. Before he was a barely functional alcoholic, a barely functional human being. These kinds of conversations are commonplace when you’re Sirius Black.

Though when it comes from Harry he has to say yes, he hasn’t yet figured out how not to.

Harry smiles at him and his heart swells a bit and he wants to promise him anything. Everything. He wants to promise him the world will always be kind and he wants to make that the truth. _Look at your boy James_ , he thinks.

“Can we sit?”

“Of course. A drink?”

“No thanks, and I wish you wouldn’t either.”

He rolls his eyes at Harry’s back, and pours one anyway. _So its this kind of talk_ , he thinks, taking a seat next to Harry.

“So you and Snape are pretty chummy these days.”

“I guess.”

“You know he’s been seeing Bill Weasley?”

“I suppose I had - ”

Oh – so they were having _this_ talk.

“So you know they broke up?”

“Did they? How tragic.”

“You know why they broke up Sirius?”

“No. But I think you’re going to tell me.”

“I don’t have to though do I?”

“Seriously Harry why on earth are we having this conversation?”

“Sirius I know. I mean I don’t _know_ , but I’m not blind. Look probably it’s none of my business, but I thought, well, maybe you’d want to talk about it? I mean Bill and Severus breakup over you?”

“Oh I wouldn’t read too much into all that Harry...”

“Sirius I was there, you told me – how’d you do it Sirius?” He shakes his head. “Actually, doesn’t matter, don’t tell me. Sirius, are you and Snape…? Because you know it’s fine right? It’s all fine. I mean obviously, and it doesn’t matter what I think…But I just thought...”

Sirius knows what Harry is trying to ask, they haven’t had this talk yet, God knows there’s been no cause to, and no one would blame Harry for assuming Sirius is anything but arrow straight, what with all the stories of him in his salad days that get gleefully rehashed at every possible occasion. Thanks Lupin. The thing is he's not ready to answer.

“Harry really Snape and I are, as much as I hate to say it, well not friends, but something like that. And I haven’t talked to you simply because there is nothing to talk about. What ever is between Snape and Weasley has nothing to do with me. Okay?” It’s probably not the most truthful answer, but it seems like something someone would say to his newly adult Godson whom he was trying not to fuck up. Is there a way to say I don’t know, I don’t know who I am or what I like because, unfortunately, I have been as good as dead for most of my adult life but please don’t worry or God forbid feel sorry for me because I want you to keep thinking I’m wonderful like you amazingly, inexplicably still seem to do? Is there a way to say that whatever I once was or wasn’t, that’s all gone now, that was before and this is now and now there is nothing left for anyone nothing to give that hasn’t already been taken and I will not let anyone be used up and sucked dry because of me? (Especially him. He’s not sure why that should be true, but it is).

Harry knows there’s a lot Sirius isn’t saying, maybe he should just leave it alone? But why wasn’t he speaking to him, or to Lupin? What was going on that he couldn’t tell them? The thing was, it wasn’t just what Bill had said or that drunken talk with Sirius, he’d seen them together. He’d seen the way his Godfather was around Snape, a combination of playful and possessive and something else. “Do you know you look at him like you’re hungry?” he wants to say. Why was he hiding it though? Surely the best thing to do was to keep digging. Hermione would help him, of course.

“Ok Sirius, you know I’m here if you need to talk.”

Sirius was suspicious; Harry never usually let things go this easily. Plus he was getting that look that could only be described as ‘Invisibility Cloak-y.’ Thank God those bastards were now too big to fit more than one of them under that thing at a time. God what a terrifying thought that was. He desperately wants to interrogate Harry for more information, but he can’t think of how to do that without saying more than he wants to. _Over me_ , he thinks, smiling. _Ginger wanker_.


	5. Chapter 5

Snape always comes when he calls. He’s known that for a while, he’s tested it then tested again, established the limits, determined the boundaries. He knows for instance that when he owls Snape and it’s 12.30 in the AM and says _Come over?_ He will come, even if it’s a Tuesday and he has classes in the morning. He knows he will come if it’s a Sunday morning ( _Can you come take a look at something for me?_ ), though he will take a little longer and when he does Sirius will feel like he has won at something, though not the right thing. He knows Severus will not compromise his classes no matter what he owls him, though he will wait until his lunchbreak and he will always leave to make it back before the next one starts ( _make it quick Black_ ), but Sirius stops doing this pretty quick, it was purely for information only. He has his limits mapped out, the bars within which he can play.

He knows also that if Snape owls him with _Are you busy?_ he will always say no, no matter what he was doing or had planned, or who he was with, or more likely _no, bring cigarettes_ , even if he doesn’t need them just to make sure he comes, as if having this small errand will lock him in like a contract. He would like to make him contractually obligated to see him, if this was possible, to somehow keep him tied to this even after he has figured out that he is trash. He would like to be the chicken bone lodged in his throat, the bruise on his shin that won’t heal, the one he keeps banging over and over.

 _Over me_ , he muses for perhaps the hundredth time since that conversation with Harry, it feels good to win. He knew he would, but it feels good anyway. He feels silly and elated and he wants to play with his sexy professor. As he thinks of him. Hey, it’s better than Snivellus. He’s sure Snape would think so anyway, if he had any intention of telling him. Which he doesn’t.

It’s just that Snape always brings this out in him, this need to torment and prod and poke. He always has.

And it’s just that isn’t he just so revolting, stalking around like some fucking Byronic hero, like he has no idea that everyone around him is thinking the same damn thing...

Yeah right. He knows.

So he prods. Just a bit. It’s meaningless of course, which makes it harmless.

“I had an interesting talk with Harry yesterday,” he says, and putting his hands on Snape’s shoulders he starts massaging, kneading the muscles at the base of the neck, he already knows these shoulders were surprisingly strong, surprisingly broad, he’d started casually touching him, just a bit, when he realised he’d started seeing that Weasley boy. And now he finds that he can’t stop. In fact he’s got more open about it, more brazen. He sometimes wonders what it would be like to touch him with other people in the room. He would like that. They would make it look like it was no big deal, but really it would be everything; it would be spark and lightening.

“I think he was trying to ask me if I was sleeping with you. Isn’t that hilarious? Well I thought it was.” He slips his hand lower down Snape’s chest, he wants to know what the scar tissue, further up, a series of deep slashes across his neck, would feel like if he touched it. He wonders what it would feel like against his mouth. “What. Do. You. Think?” He says slowly punctuating each word, he realises he’s actually half way there, that his mouth is right at the level of his ear. He could just...

Snape’s almost says, “Little shit, how does he bloody know?” He’s been very careful, hasn’t he? Careful to not let anything show? Especially in front of anyone, he’s aware that this thing he and Black have going on is gossamer delicate, shaky at best. And then he thinks, _know what? God knows nothing’s happened_ , there’s no way to reply to that without admitting to something.

So he says, “Black I’ve never known what that boy has meant about anything, I wouldn’t put much stock by it.” He hopes, for once, that Black is drunk so that he might not notice that his already deep voice has slipped to a lower register. Don’t stop, he thinks, for the love of God please don’t stop, I’ll say anything, I’ll deny everything. He’s a bad bad man.

Later that night he will jerk off roughly, and he will remember the smell of him, the heat, and the pressure of those big hands. That’s all he needs, that’s more than enough. He will pass out after into a fitful sleep, he no longer tells himself he will stop.

 

A memory. A long time ago, before one of those ghastly order meetings. He was always on edge then, more exhausted than he ever thought possible, and the inside of his wrist always burned with a constant reminder. Sometimes he forgot whose side he was actually on, what version of himself the truth.

They throw their wands down at the same time and Black gets in the first blow. It’s a good one, square on the jaw. The pain crashes through him, so real it makes him smile with it. Black’s stronger and he’s easily outmatched but Snape’s desperate and used to pain far far worse. As Black’s knuckles collide with his teeth and his own bottom lip bursts open he realises he’s enjoying himself. “Come on Black” he snarls, spitting blood, “you can do better than that.” Head fuzzy and charged with adrenaline he pins Black to the wall by his collar and punches him once, then twice across the face. It’s a long held fantasy, literally a dream come true and over too soon as hands yank him back. Fucking Lupin, ( _his names not ‘Fucking Lupin’_ he hears Black say) his furious shout (he’s walked in right at the end and admittedly it looks bad), _I was gone five minutes! Are you fucking mad? You know what he’s been through Snape! I thought better of you…_ He looks past Lupins shoulder to Black, still right there against the wall. Black looks at him, smirking, he lifts his knuckle to his mouth and, slowly, deliberately, licks off the blood that’s smeared there. At no point do his eyes ever leave Snape.

Later that night Snape comes, alone in his room, to the memory of that, Black, taunting, beaten and half mad, licking Snape’s blood off his knuckles with his own dripping down his chin. Afterwards he feels disgusted with himself and doesn’t know whether this is the real him or some version of himself sickened by magic.

 

Harry decides to start with Snape. Since he got nothing from Sirius the sensible thing to do would be to go to the next best source. Ginny didn’t actually agree, _I don’t think sensible is the word for it Harry_ she had said. But honestly what does she know? This is way more his area.

On Tuesday he waits for Severus in his office at the end of the day, having long ago familiarised himself with his timetable, when you wanted to help people it paid to ensure they couldn’t hide from you.

After Snape’s initial shock wears off Harry doesn’t waste too much time with formalities, reasoning that he would be more likely to tell the truth if he has less time to think about it.

“Professor are you in love with my Godfather?”

“Jesus Potter!”

“That’s not a no. Is he in love with you?”

Snape takes a deep breath and studies him carefully before saying, “No. I can say with absolute authority that he is not.”

“Shit. So… what, he’s just playing with you, is that what that’s about?”

“Harry let me put this in a way you’d understand- ”

“Professor just how badly are you going to get hurt here – ”

“Potter.”

“ – because you know I don’t actually like seeing you hurt right? I’m your friend, and I also think –“

“-Potter I like it!”

“Sorry?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, I can’t believe I am… Potter. Harry. I am very aware of Blacks’ motivations. And, as much as you might have trouble believing it I am no innocent flower. This is what we do Harry, we torment each other. We have done long before you were even born, and I dare say we will continue to do so, with or without your meddling. And if I have attributed more to it than is really there, then that is my cross to bear. I am a big boy. But Harry, listen to me now because I want to be perfectly clear. If you do anything to ruin what I have with Black, if you scare him, if you disapprove, if you as much as hint that he should in any way change even a scintilla of his behaviour towards me, I will destroy you. Do you understand me Potter?”

“Ah yeah, I think I do actually. Okay. Right. None of my business then…” He says.

“This is older than you.”

“Ah.”

“Potter – I do actually appreciate that you, well…”

“Care, Professor. That’s what that is.”

“Yes. That. And I understand that this is a… rather abnormal situation.”

“Severus I won’t say anything.”

“Yes, quite. Thank you.”

“Goodbye professor.”

“Goodbye Harry.”

 

When he gets home Ginny asks him, warily, how it went.

“Not great babe no.”

“Oh no.” She laughs, she’s actually on the verge of cracking up. She’s a cruel woman, Harry thinks.

“Go on say it then, you know you want to.”

“Oh I wouldn’t dare… But I did didn’t I?”

“Yes, well that’s the end of my involvement. You were right. That is one big freaky bag of worms I won’t be going anywhere near from now on. I will bloody well leave them to it. Poor Bill, how do you compete with that?”

He has to stop because Ginny is laughing so hard, which really is not fair.

He waits for her to get herself together.

“Ginny?” He asks, when she’s half way composed. “Do you think, oh God – Is it possible that my Godfather and my old professor, have been getting off on fighting each other for years? Like… sexually? Oh my God I was there! I saw them! Ugh I feel so dirty…”

“I did tell you not to get involved.”

“So I guess you don’t want to know what he told me?”

“Are you kidding? Start from the beginning and do not leave out a word Harry.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things finally come to a head...

_Three ways he has touched me._

Shoulders. If there was ever an outside observer (which there never was) this would probably look light, playful, friendly, but it feels anything but. The first time he does it, thank God, my robes cover the erection that has sprung up without me even knowing, and I try to control my breathing, which has become abnormally heavy. His hands are warm and calloused and _dear God_ I can smell him. I think of Bill then and try to quash my feelings but it’s becoming very hard to pretend this dalliance between us is strictly innocent, at least on my part.

Thigh. There are people there, Bill is there. We are sitting next to one another at the table, he gets up, says to me, only me, the others aren’t listening, he’s getting us another drink. Briefly, so briefly so you could be mistaken, his hand touches my thigh. It’s so quick, but I know. Later, another time, we will be reading, together, in silence, and his hands will slip back to that place, so easy I think, like it belongs there but this time it stays. There’s no one around. It’s companionable, easy, and its like fire. I read next to nothing but time passes quick, in chunks. I think to myself that this is maybe the most erotic thing that has ever happened to me, better than any sex I’ve had. Then I tell myself to stop being so melodramatic.

Neck. He’s never asked me about it, we had never talked about it. But of course he’d noticed, how could you not. It’s not a thing you don’t, it’s the first thing someone will see when they meet me. An ugly puckered thing, a thick slash across my neck, broken and uneven. Purple red, but fading. I’m told it will fade even more, though I’m not particularly bothered. I was never much to look at before, and a new scar doesn’t change much. A few more stares perhaps, but mostly they know who I am, what I’ve done, so I don’t get many questions. I don’t mind the stares, as long as they keep their mouths shut. I should have died of course, but then so should have others who didn’t. I don’t think of it much, though I’ve been told it’s a blessing, and maybe it is, it’s not that I’m not grateful, but I didn’t choose this. It wouldn’t have been me I would have chosen.

Reverent. That’s the word I think of when he touches it. When he runs his fingers lightly at first over that mess of scar tissue that was once my neck. I think he can surely feel my pulse pick up as he does; this is you, I think to him. This beats for you, and because of you. And if you were not here, standing here, touching me this way, it would surely stop. His touch becomes more firm, and he is using both hands now, thumbs stroking, exploring. Claiming. He could kill me from this position, with his hands like this. It wouldn’t be hard. I wonder if I would struggle, or if I would let him. I wonder if he would let me, if we could kill each other and if at the moment of death we could know each other like we could not in life. When he stops my heart’s still beating and, just for a moment, I’m honestly surprised.

After, he will show me his, the matching ones on his wrists. I am appalled that my first emotion is a sharp red anger, and I know that if he had succeeded I would have hated him as keenly and as sharply as I ever had. How dare he? This belongs to me, I think, which of course worries me but does not come as a surprise. I know then that the only use of my life now is to keep him safe, though I don’t know if I can. He was always right, I am pathetic, a loser. His left wrist is halfway to my mouth before I realise what I was about to do, I drop it like I’ve been burnt and look at him expecting to see disgust but he looks at me with what looks like wonder…and something else?

 

_Three ways he has ruined my life._

No appetite. I have worked hard to get my former figure back, or at least an approximation of it, so this recent lack of appetite is especially vexing. It’s not that I’m vain, well yes ok I am, it’s about the only thing I’ve kept from my former life. Ok so its not _only_ vanity – do you know what it’s like to be half dead? Do you know what that looks like? It’s not pretty. So yeah it took a lot of work, it was hard. And getting back to the point where people sometimes looked at me like they wanted to fuck me, well that at the time had seemed like some sort of achievement, like it meant everything could be ok. So I still eat ok? I eat even though it’s sometimes like I’m eating cardboard, even though it’s like I can’t really get the point of it. Sort of like when I’ll be reading and then I realise that I haven’t read a Goddamn word in a really long time because I’ve just been thinking about … well you can probably guess.

No sex. Well no, contrary to what you might expect from someone with as little self-control coupled with as much self-hatred as I have, I don’t sleep around much. Very fucking little in fact, a fun side effect of my previous adventures is that I can’t really be around people sometimes. Like in a scary I don’t know what I’ll do kind of way. But recently I’ve been wanting certain…things. To be done. To me. Whatever, I’ll just say it: sometimes I want very much to be fucked by someone tall and dark, which requires me on occasion to seek out the services of people I don’t know and will never see again. I mean I don’t pay for it or anything. I don’t have to, I can still get people to fuck me even though I’m pretty much crazy. Which says a lot about how fucked up society is. Well, as unsavoury as you or I might find that, what’s worse is that now I can’t even do that. Like I can’t or I won’t or something, like my mind just won’t let me. Of course I blame him. Ever since that time he saw my scars, and I his, and I thought he was going to…like he wanted to…and I felt that we really saw each other, felt that he _knew_ me, and then, next thing I know, just like that – no sex for Sirius.

No _him_. I really do hate him still you know. I was ok for a little while. Without him. Ok so it was a little boring, and yeah I like to be noticed as you might have gathered. It felt good to have his eyes on me again. Right. But I was ok you see? And now… now there’s all these things that I want that I absolutely can not have. I must not. Can’t we just keep it like this? As we are, with me and my strangers and him just being there always (he can’t have anyone else, I can’t allow that again) with no one getting hurt and me not destroying anything. Sometimes I think that maybe I could reach to him through the bars of this prison and he could reach to me through the bars of his and we could meet briefly there in the middle somewhere but this is just a fantasy. I am a sponge. A vampire. I will suck up everything. And he wants so much from me.

…

They settle into a workable rhythm, nothing much changes but also everything does. Even if Severus even wanted to pursue a relationship with anyone else he couldn’t; it’s not actually that Black would care if he did, he thinks, he just does not have the time or the energy for anyone else in his life.

He stops drinking around him and he’s not sure if he’s overreacting. This elicits an _I suppose you’ll find something else to do now that you don’t drink_. _Maybe_ , he replies looking at him in the face. _Idiot_ , he says under his breath.

One night he holds Sirius’s hair back as he vomits for almost 4 hours straight, and after he sleeps on the couch checking on him periodically, making him drink water. He owls in sick to work next day and feeds him and makes him cups of tea’s whenever Black asks. He knows Harry and Lupin have no idea what to do either, and Lupin has Teddy and Harry has Ginny and the baby on the way, and even though its stupid, when they say _thank you Severus_ he thinks I want to be there when you realise he’s mine, and this is how he realises that he is most definitely the wrong person to help him.

Then, as Autumn turns to Winter and the first dusting of snow begins to settle, Snape receives a job offer from America. He would never normally have considered taking it but he does so now. Turns the idea over in his mind, tries it out. Could it really be that easy? Would it get rid of this slow choking feeling, this queasy longing that is unbearable now if only because of its utter pointlessness? He will forget in time, that much is for sure.

These times too, he thinks about what it would be like if he went for it, the other thing. He could do it, he could say something, he could take what he wants. Or at least ask. You coward, he thinks, if you were going to you would have done so by now. You never will.

He accepts finally after one Friday evening with Black, spent pleasant enough in his company but when he gets home he finds that he’s angry. _Furious_. He thinks of all the things left unsaid and thinks he would rather be fighting again like they used to do, he’d rather be spitting blood, pulling hair and knocking teeth, he’d rather be _screaming_. At least that was truthful. At what point did they become so dishonest with each other? He writes saying yes and he imagines each stroke on the parchment must seethe with spite and rage.

By the next night he’s changed his mind.

 

The thing about firewhiskey is that it doesn’t actually make anything easier, just makes time shift and jump and you’re lonely, you’re so lonely and you know that if you could just see him you would be okay, and maybe he won’t even mind that you’re hair is wet and lank against your face and you’re a skinny shivering mess and that you’re face is ridiculous and not even ugly in an attractive way, just ugly and he is a fucking god.

He dallies briefly on the front doorstep, somewhat confused as to how he got here but cognisant that at this point he could still definitely leave. No one would even have to know he was here.

He doesn’t though. Because whiskey.

 

“Black.”

“Jesus, Snape you look like hell.”

“Hello Severus! Join us! Sirius was just about to tell us -”

“Black. Can we talk? Please.” He implores with a backwards nod of the head. Of course there would have to be others here, how fortunate for them they get to witness his embarrassment. It must be genuinely pleasurable for at least a couple of them. He can point to two at least, ministry men, who would be as likely to spit on him as talk to him. Three perhaps. Associates of Lupin no doubt. Ugh, what in the hell does he see in this man? His choice of friends is appalling.

“Ah sure mate.” Black says uncertainly, but Snape doesn’t wait to see if he’s following, doesn’t want to see the look he has undoubtedly given Lupin and the others. He walks out of the kitchen, down the hall and crosses in to the drawing room. Thank God, Black does follow him; actually he’s right on his heels.

Black closes the door and says, “I would have invited you but well, apparently you tortured that Foxworthy guy, so.” He shrugs.

Ah yes, he knew there were three.

“Is that what I am?” He asks, though he hadn’t meant to say that. It’s at this point where he could lie, make something up, say he was passing by and remembered he left his fucking whatever the fuck here last time. But he doesn’t because he’s not a fucking chicken shit, at least not any more. Because _whiskey_.

“Huh?”

“Your _mate_.” He spits. “Am I your mate Black?” He hadn’t meant to get upset, he really hadn’t.

“Severus you can’t seriously think we’re not friends. As much as you’d rather we were not, I think we crossed into that territory awhile back.”

“Did we now.”

“Wh- Severus are you high?”

“What are we Black?” He pauses, “I think you know what you are to me.”

Black smiles for a second, he looks confused, then – he stops. Just like that.

“Severus.” He breathes; it’s really just a whisper. He shakes his head, no.

“No fuck you Black, I’m just going to say it. Because I’m leaving and this might just be my last chance. And I think all this not saying things is probably killing me. So – no shut up I said - Sirius Black, it’s you, always has been. When I close my eyes it’s still you I see. I think at this point it always will be. Do you know? Sometimes I’m sure you do, but perhaps you think me a eunuch, that no blood thunders though my veins. But it does I assure you, God, my heart has pounded for you for so long I’m sure it knows no other way. I’m not delusional, I know you don’t want me, but I found I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving without you... knowing.” He must have closed the distance, though he can’t remember when, and they’re almost – but not – touching. “God, I’m lying, I’m lying even now, _tell the truth_ , yes – I want you, that’s why I came, I want to look at you and know _know_ you are mine, that you belong to only me, and I want you to tell me you must have me, that you’re desperate for me, or that I can have you, you don’t mind or that you would try though you find it distasteful –“

“Please,” Sirius says, and Severus knows, _knows_ , and he steels himself as if for a blow. “It’s better if we… it’s better like it is, you don’t know what you’re asking –“

“– I can change.” He blurts out.

“Sorry?”

“I can change, if that’s what you need. If that’s what you need to want me, I can change. Just tell me how. I know I’m not much to look at, but if its something else, something I can fix, please, please just tell me –“

“Where?”

“Wh- What?”

“Where are you going?” Sirius’ brain had gone curiously quiet; it was suddenly hard to parse all of what he was hearing. _Leaving_ , was all he could think. _He said leaving_.

Severus makes a noise, somewhere between a sharp laugh and a sob. “Yes.” He says, “That’s what I…Yes. Okay.” He nods, too many times.

“I’m sorry Black, I believe I’ve taken up too much of your time already. Please, forget everything I said, blame it on the liquor, I know I will. Goodbye Sirius.”

“Sev –“ Black calls after him, but it comes out much too quiet. _Severus I can’t breath_ , he had tried to say.

 

The others had left quickly after that. He must have looked terrible, and besides what was the use in pretending everything was ok? He couldn’t give a shit what they thought. What they’d say about him. About them. Only Lupin remained, to help clean up he said. Sirius didn’t have the strength to argue.

He tries to get up and help but Remus tells him to sit, and he obeys, like a child. For a while the only sound is the clang of dishes, and the crash of bottles being thrown into the bin. Light beer of course, Lupin no longer will allow him anything else in his presence.

"I'm sorry we ruined..." He spreads his hands out.

Remus shakes his head, "You didn't."

Then after a beat, “Remus, do you think I’m broken?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Remus, what if all I can give him is more pain, more hurt? Or worse, what if I can give him nothing because where any joy and love and good may once have been there is just a scraped out black hollow? What if he sees that and he stops wanting me? It’s better right? To have him want me from afar rather than see me for who I am and be disgusted?”

“Oh Sirius. My dear, is that what you think? That you are not capable of love? Was it not love when you sat with me everyday, _everyday_ Sirius, after Nymphadora died, though you were so terribly unwell yourself? Is it not love I see every time you look at Harry? Do not tell me you do not love that boy. I know there is nothing you would not do for him. How is that not love Sirius? How can there be no good in you when all I see in you is love? And anyway, I think there may be one thing you seem to have overlooked.”

“Yes?”

“Does Snape seem like to you, has he _ever_ been, the type of person to be much in to joy and goodness? Does that seem like our professor Snape to you?”

Sirius smiles, despite himself. “He said he would change for me.”

“Well of course he would.”

“Do you think?”

“What did you say?”

“Well I couldn’t think, I think I said…well I said “where?””

“Where?”

“I told you I was confused and … He said he was leaving Remus? Did you know? Where’s he going?”

“Sirius focus, what do you think about what he said?”

“It’s stupid of course, if he changed a hair on his head I would kill him, I can’t have him changing. But Remus he said he was leaving?”

“Jesus, we were right, you love him… Um ok… don’t let him leave then, talk to him.”

Sirius says nothing for a bit, then in a quiet voice: “I’ll only let him down.”

“But don’t you think he should get to decide what’s good for him?”

“Should he though? He makes even worse decisions than I do. Maybe neither of us should decide, Remus?”

“Sirius I don’t know about that, but I don’t think this isn’t a conversation you should be having with _me_.”

“Yes, of course… Who then? Harry?”

“With _Severus_ , Sirius! With Severus. My God, my best friend is an actual idiot. Sirius next time something like this comes up maybe talk to me sooner hey?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (...note the surreptitious rating change...)

How fucking hard could it be to find a notable war hero with a recognisable hooked nose who wears the same bloody thing everyday? Not very you would think. An absolute cake walk. Considering you had access to:

  1. Information concerning where that person works and resides
  2. Access to information from people on the inside
  3. The ability to turn into a fucking dog



The thing is he’s not angry because he’s just been looking for him for a couple of days. No. Try 2 fucking weeks.

Two weeks.

He hasn’t been able to find him for two whole weeks. This includes, owling him, knocking on his door, stalking outside his room, stalking outside his office, hanging around Hogwarts grounds in dog form, and embarrassing himself (though not as badly as he’s embarrassed Severus, certainly) interrogating (not a word he uses mildly) Harry, McGonagall, Hagrid, Ginny, Ron. The last two were to find out if they had any information from their brother (they had nothing he didn’t already know).

Harry says Severus leaves on the Sunday. Today is Tuesday.

He considers giving up because what kind of a douchebag does that? Hit him with that shit and disappear. Not that he’s at all surprised, he’s so entirely unsurprised he might just pass out from it. Newsflash, Severus Snape is an Utter Uncompromising Douchebag. Severus Snape Acts Like a Twat of the Highest Order. Oh, what strange and unusual news is this? How incredibly fucking novel. He should just give up and leave him to it, he could do that, it’s an actual possible thing that he could do.

Lupin asks him what he’s going to say when he (‘if’ he said first, then changed it) saw him and he realises he doesn’t strictly know. He’ll figure it out by the time he sees him. By Thursday he has a few choice words for him though. How dare he ignore him? _I fucking own you_.

Thursday night he gives up on whatever dignity he has left and decides simply to stand at the door to his rooms and yell until he answers, _I can do this all night_ he warns, and he means it, he can. He had a lot of practice doing fuck all. Miracle of miracles, this works. He would have done this two and a half weeks ago if he had known.

The door bursts open on its own with two of Sirius’s hand poised in mid-air, as there’s no wand in his hand he can only assume Snape did that with wandless magic. Smug prick.

He slams the door behind him with magic, not using his wand. I can do that too dickhead.

“Snape!”

“Black, I’ve said everything I care to say, you need not embarrass me further.”

“What? What does that even mean?”

“Just leave me alone Black, _please_.”

“Would you please just listen to me?!”

“Black how do I make you understand I don’t want to hear this? I swear I will leave you alone if you leave right now. I will finally leave you alone.”

“Snape you infuriating fool of a man, you will listen to me for once in your goddamn miserable life! God knows you never have before. Look at me. LOOK AT ME! You think I don’t want you? You think I don’t want you every single day, every minute? Sometimes I can’t believe it’s you, but I could no more change that than I could change who I am. I want to eat you up, do you know that? I want to consume you, and I would, you know, if you let me. What did you think? That I was just playing with you? You couldn’t have looked once? I would have let you you know. I wanted you to. Not that you needed to. I may as well have been wearing a sign, Sev, right here, across my forehead. I’m a whore for Severus Snape. Everyone else saw it Severus, you idiot. You were the only one who didn’t.”

“Sirius.”

“No, shut your face, just wait. This is my offer. And it’s a bad one. I’m broken. I’ve seen things, too much, far more than anyone should. I’m not sure how stable my mind is Severus, sometimes I can’t quite grasp reality, most times I can’t even stand to be in my own skin. The drinking doesn’t help and now that’s an even bigger problem. You have to know this. And more. If you want me that’s what you will be getting. And it’s far worse than the piss poor way that I’ve just tried to explain it. But you would find out. And it would hurt you. I will hurt you. I am sure to. But my offer is this – If you are willing, I am willing to… try not to. That’s it. In hindsight that’s a shitty bloody offer. It will be the worst offer you ever get, I’m sure of it.”

“Yes.”

“What? Hang on, you haven’t even – do you want to think about it for a bloody minute?”

“No. My answer is yes. And oh God yes, and _please_ , yes. Before you change your mind. Yes. And I will have all of you Black. Every part. Every imperfection. I will take every cell in your body and even that won’t be enough. So before you go making ridiculous offers that you clearly haven’t thought through, know those are _my_ conditions.”

“Oh.” He laughs, this is absurd. Could they really be doing this? He can’t even tell whose declaration was the most unhealthy; he’s not even sure if Snape is aware that they were. What’s worse is that it doesn’t matter. This is hardly a choice for either of them. So he tells him the truest thing he knows of.

“You already had all of me Sev, didn’t you know?”

Severus is still standing there, he hasn’t moved, and if he weren’t so inured to the famous impenetrable Snape stare it would possibly have been unsettling.

Instead he says impatiently, “Severus, for God sake, kiss me then.”

“Yes.”

“Severus?”

“Black, you had better be sure, because if I start kissing you I don’t think I will ever stop.”

He blanches at that; “then don’t.”

They both step forward at once closing the gap. Sirius had at times wondered if there would be hesitation between them, if at first they would be tentative, if not a little formal, with each other. He had imagined shy heated kisses and pent up emotion. Careful exploration and gradual building passion. They would look good together, he had thought, they would fit. But this is not what happens at all. They both grab the others’ head, this doesn’t strictly work but they bash on anyway, literally, open mouths colliding, their teeth clack together, but this is good, this means that they can get further into each others space, mouth, body. Later, he would think they fit together like a square peg being forced into a square hole that that’s just too small, all edges and angles. Later still, he would find that Snape is actually a good kisser, sensual and demanding with just the right amount of bite. But secretly he prefers these pleasure pain fire kisses, the ones that leave his mouth bruised and bleeding. The ones that leave people no doubt as to what they’ve been doing. But right now he’s not thinking at all, he’s breathing hard, just _taking_ , everything he’s wanting for so long now finally _finally_ his and Snape is making these small noises at the back of his throat and he bites his lip hard making Sirius cry out. “Don’t stop you idiot,” he says when Snape pulls back. Severus kisses him again then says, “God I won’t, I won’t ever.”

“Did you mean what you said?” Sirius pants as Severus bites and sucks at his jawline.

“I have in fact said lots of things dear one, please narrow it down.” Snape licks up his neck, tasting him first with his tongue, then again with open-mouthed kisses.

Sirius smiles, drunkenly, though he hasn’t touched alcohol today. “That you would change for me.”

“Yes, yes. Every word. Tell me.” He says.

“You must really like me.”

“I’ve come to tolerate you.” Snape says but his voice, breathless and gravelly thick, betrays him.

“Ahh.” Sirius says. “Mmm. You’re really tolerating me very well right now.” Snape suddenly backs him up against his workbench, and he throws his hand back to steady himself and crashes up against a number of things that sound like glass, something rolls and smashes on the ground but it registers very low.

“I’ll tolerate the shit out of you. I’ll tolerate you so hard you wont be able to walk.” Severus warns in that deep honey drip he usually reserves for his enemies. Strange that used to be him.

Sirius whines. Actually whines, his voice rising at the end. He had considered before, of course, what that voice would be like saying filthy things to him, but he really wasn’t prepared for it’s full effect. He’s pretty sure that 90 percent of his mental effort from now on will go into getting that voice to talk dirty to him.

“Shit.” He says, he’s already jacked, half on his way to being able to come, and Severus is as hard as iron against him and now that he has Sirius up against the bench and his hands on his arse Sirius doesn’t think he can last much longer, not with Snape rubbing on him like he’s doing, not with the way Sirius is grinding right back, not with those hot desperate breaths against his neck and the hot kiss of skin against his stomach where thin white cotton is riding up to reveal just the barest tantalising hint of pale flesh. “I just think you’re beautiful, did I say that?” Sirius asks, “I just think you’re so fucking -“

It’s too too fucking much, all the more so when Snape cries out “Oh God Sirius, _Fuck_ I’m sorry, I’m about to – ” he hadn’t even considered Severus was right there with him. Snape coming right there against him, the feel and weight of him as he fucks the first thrusts of his orgasm into him, the way he had said his name like that just as he was about to come, he’s surprised by all of it and he comes in a white hot rush, just behind.

A slick wetness blooms and spreads and mingles with the filthy warm slick from Severus and he keeps grinding because Snape needs to have his come on him, he’s always needed that.

“Shit I, I’m sorry – I, ah, really didn’t want our first time to be like that.” Severus pants against Sirius’s neck, Sirius holds fast, he doesn’t want to disengage, wants to cleave himself to Snape and never let go.

“Hey Severus I just came my brains out, it’s probably ok.”

“Ok. Good. You have no idea how glad I am that you came too.”

Sirius laughs. “Oh God me too, I was half wondering how I was going to live that one down, you kiss me and I come all over you.”

He’s half expecting Snape to say something sarcastic having set him up nicely, but is surprised when he says, “God Black anytime you come on me is fine by me, Jesus if I could get you to come on me again just by kissing you I’d do it now.”

Sirius pulls in a wobbly breath, he just really wasn’t expecting that, “Yeah?”

“Oh hell yeah. Black try to understand how much I’ve wanted this,” he says pulling back to look him in the eyes. “ _God_ you’re beautiful. I wish I could…I just want to _lick_ you, everywhere.”

“Yes. Good idea Sev.”

Severus looks at him like he’s said something particularly clever, he rubs his thumb along his lower lip. “You’re the most amazing thing, how is it possible that I get to kiss that mouth, touch this skin? _God_ but I am a slave to this skin.”

He’s smiling like an idiot and is embarrassed when the giggle that erupts out of him comes out closer to a sob. Severus has his hand is on his cheek, and Sirius turns his head into the caress. That shouldn’t be making him feel like this – it’s a bit corny isn’t it? Just useless words? He’s a middle-aged man with trust issues and a drinking problem, not a teenaged boy with a crush. _But I want to believe he means it_ , he thinks. _I think he does_.

“Sev? When are you leaving?” He says suddenly remembering. “Will you take me with you? I mean, I was thinking that since I just gave you the best 30 seconds of your life, you might want to keep me around.”

“Nowhere my love. I’m not going anywhere. Not anymore. Black, do stop being thick. Do you seriously think I could leave you?”

“Ok.” He says, his head swimming. Then to shake out this swoony feeling he whistles softly, “Sev you are smooth as hell when you want to be, I bet you just carve up with talk like that, do I need to be jealous?”

“Ugh Black _shut up_. You went so long without ruining it.”

He really is exasperating Severus thinks, but then Sirius smiles at him and he really should be used to them by now but this one’s just so so sweet and wicked cute and Snape hasn’t quite seen that one before. The man just has so many smiles, he’s such a wonder to him. “You still think I’m amazing?” his boy says.

“I thought I told you not to be thick.” He says softly.

“Hey Black?”

“Hey Snape?”

“Foxworthy’s an idiot.”

“Agreed. Actually what?”

“He was lucky it wasn’t one of the others. He’d be dead.”

“Okay.”

“I just don’t want you thinking…”

“I don’t. I don’t think anything. I don’t care. Also after the third accounts payable story I was ready to torture him myself, so…”

Snape grins at him guiltily, they are being wildly inappropriate. “Fuck.” He says.

“That I can do. You wanna bang till we forget everything Sev?”

Severus nods, not that he would tell him but sometimes Sirius can be so fucking clever.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last wee bit. I think they deserve something nice after all they've been through..;)

Snape nods at him and gets that curious look again like he’s said something particularly smart. He grabs Sirius’s hand and leads him through the heavy double doors into the adjoining bedroom. It feels nice to have his hand in his, it’s warm and steadying and he wonders how often Sev will let him do this before it’s too much. Can they do this in public? around their friends? Can he sleep next to him and hold this warm hand with his hand until morning?

“Sit.” Sirius nods at the bed.

“You’ll need to let go if you want me to do that.” Snape smirks.

Sirius kisses the back of his hand and lets go, “Sit, please.”

Snape looks uncharacteristically and deliciously dishevelled with his shirt crumpled and untucked and to see him like that, who is never anything but impeccably dressed and buttoned up formal, seems wickedly naughty, erotic to the point of pornographic.

Sirius winks at Snape and starts unbuttoning his own shirt for him to watch, You are such a showoff, Snape says, but he’s hard already so Sirius thinks he means it in a good way.

“I want to be so good for you Sev.” Throwing his shirt on the ground he bites his bottom lip and unbuttons the fly on his jeans. Looking down he lets his hair fall forward over his face. He’s thought of doing this for so long that it’s almost automatic, he wants to tease him until he begs and then leave him there aching and unsatisfied and _desperate_ for him.

Not this time though, they’ve played that game for too long.

“Is this ok?” He says, “I hope so.”

His jeans tug his boxer briefs down slightly as he pulls them off so that they come right down to the top of his half hard dick. He hears Snape pull a sharp intake of breath. This is just too easy, he thinks with a smirk, oh the things I am going to do to you.

“I know you haven’t seen me like this before. Do you like it Sev? I’m not as young as I used to be.” He’s teasing but he also really wants to know, _tell me I’m good_ he thinks impulsively even though he’s pretty sure that’s another one of things he’s not supposed to think. He knows he doesn’t look like he used to when they were younger, he’s too marked and scarred for that, wellworn is a word that comes to mind. Old is another. He’ll never be that man again, the one with the easy confidence, and the fresh boyish figure. He hopes Snape is not expecting that. There is also the slight apprehension that he wouldn’t like his tatts. Sirius has no idea if Snape is a man that likes that sort of thing. How could he?

“Come here.” Snape demands, and he does, standing between Snape’s legs he offers himself up.

Sirius is…well of course he had some idea of what Black would look like naked, he had often tried to kill him with those tight t-shirts he favoured, but the reality makes his heart pound and his mouth water. Severus knew he was broad shouldered and muscled yet slim, toned without being bulky. He’d glimpsed that smooth olive skin that ran to tan. What he didn’t know was that there is a delicate circular collection of runes tattooed over his right breast that almost touches his nipple. That the small surface area of his torso that is left unmarked is still marked by small silvery spidery scars as well as much larger purplish ones. That there is sparse golden brown hair on his chest that’s a shade or two lighter than the hair under his arms. He wants all of it in a sudden and grasping way, he wants to catalogue all of those tattoos until he knows them like his own name, he wants run his hands, his tongue, his lips, over every inch of him, wants to bite and scratch, wants to spill his come on his skin, wants to mark him with his scent.

Snape hooks the fingers of his right hand in Sirius’s pants and pulls down slowly. He looks at Sirius in the eyes as he does it, he wants Sirius to see who he’s letting do this. Wants him to know how much he wants this – he lets his face reflect how he feels right now, predatory, ready to pounce. He looks down to see his cock thick and upwardly curved with moisture glistening on its fat purple head, it takes effort not to just dip forward and suckle on it. He can’t help but imagine what it would feel like pressing inside him.

“Look at me.” He says. “Don’t you ever think I want a child, I want a man. I want you.”

He runs trembling hands down the sides of that brown torso, “Beautiful.” He says, but what he thinks is _mine_. “You know you are, show me. I never want to see you being uncertain again. Not in this bed.”

Snape moans, as he slides his hands over the cheeks of that perfect round arse, “Fuck I knew it. I knew you would look like this. This is why I’m so fucking obsessed with you.”

“Let me see you.” Sirius says breathlessly, pushing his hands away and reaching to undo Snape’s shirt buttons. When Sirius has undone them all the way, Snape shucks out of the shirt unceremoniously, throwing it away from him. He’s not self-conscious, maybe he would have been at one point in his life next to someone like Black, but honestly he has no energy left for all that. He knows his body is adequate and being skinny in his younger days means he doesn’t really put on weight, though he’s filled out since then. But really he’s seen enough to know that _no one_ has a body like Black does, and it would be absurd to compare himself.

Blacks reaction, like every other thing about him, does surprise him though.

“Look at you,” Black says, grinning lasciviously. “Snape look at this hot little body you have.”

Sirius lets his eyes wander over Snape’s torso greedily and with abandon. _So pale_ is the first thing he thinks. Alabaster. This is what that word means. He’s not unblemished though, with a large silvery scar across his right breast and another on his upper arm, horizontal against the soft flesh of the inside. And on the inside of the wrist of the same arm Sirius can just see the mark, faded, but still there. A shock of fine black hair is dusted across his chest and nipples, and also trails down his trim white stomach, and he has little rolls from leaning forward that Sirius just wants to bite. Severus is perfectly proportioned and _lean_ , there’s not an ounce of extra fat on him. He’s not skinny though, not anymore, though he’s much slighter than himself. _Uh he’s perfect_ , Sirius thinks, _I am so fucked_. Then, _Of course he’s perfect, he pretty much invented your type you idiot, what you think every guy you’ve ever fucked wasn’t some version of him?_

“Show me more,” he says and Severus stands up to remove his slim black trousers, studying him with lip curled as he unfastens the placket. He shoves down his trousers and his pants in one movement, and pulls them off his feet. Its only when he stands up that Sirius gets a proper look.

“Oh.” He breathes. “Sev.” He emits a small quick exhale, involuntarily. Oh Merlin. It’s too big on him, is the first coherent thing he thinks. A white spike of arousal shoots down his spine, and he’s suddenly short of breath and unable to think of what to say.

He trips over his words trying to collect his thoughts. “Can I – that is, I mean, Sev?”

“Sev I need to ask you something.” He says, still looking at it. It’s wickedly curved and _long_. I bet he knows what to do with that, he thinks.

Severus is amused by the way Black is acting, he seems to be turned on by him. This is interesting, he thinks, I hadn’t considered this. Then: I could use this. “Yes Black,” he says smoothly.

“Baby, I was wondering… Can you please fuck me?” Sirius looks up as he says this. All sweet and innocent. Like Snape’s own filthy goddamn fuck doll.

Maybe not. He groans. “You’re going to ruin me aren’t you? Yes I would like to do that. Please. Yes please.”

“Please yes please?” Black mocks.

“Would you like me to say no, because I can. And I will.” The last part comes out with absolutely no authority.

“No, I would like you to do it. Please. Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

Already Black’s got his hand on his own cock and is biting his lip looking at him with his head cocked. Right so he’s going to have to get used to this then.

He starts making soft little noises while worrying away at his bottom lip.

“Black I am so unsurprised that you are such a little slut.”

And when he keeps at it: “Did I say you could do that?” He slaps his hand away. “Don’t touch.”

He thinks about what he wants him to do. “Kiss me.” He says finally. “Then maybe I will let you finger your little hole and get yourself wet for me.” It’s only talk, he doesn’t really expect that, anything will be good, great, better than best, he just likes the way it sounds when he says it.

“Sev.” He says as he steps forward and wraps his arms about Snape’s neck, Snape kisses him hungrily and without hesitation, this is what he wanted, the taste of this man is addicting. He cradles the back of his head with his hand, pushing his fingers up into his hair. He licks against Black’s tongue with his own, then sucks his top lip, then goes back for more. He could do this all night, and the thought that it’s _him_ that he’s doing this with is heady and intoxicating, and his lungs are full of the smell of him.

He licks deeper into his mouth, kissing him like a man who’s been starved and is finally taking his fill. He is starved, he’s ravenous. Black is hard against him and suddenly it’s very tempting to slide his hands down to that perfect arse and just start _grinding_.

“Snaape.” Black whines.

“Yes. Yes. I know baby, you’ve been such a good boy. Look how hard you made me.” Daddy he almost says. Even the thought of that creates a hot lick of fire in his balls, and he wants to last just slightly longer than last time. Perhaps not yet.

He pulls Black down onto the bed, or Black pushes him, it’s hard to tell. He’s heavy on top of him like he always knew he would be.

“Black” he warns, “this is going to be quick.”

“Hard.” Black says. “Make it hard though.”

“Yeah, yeah ok.”

He pushes up so he’s leaning low against the headboard, he can see better this way, he can see Black straddling him, see him pushing back against him, but he can also kiss him from this angle. He does so, wet and dirty, Black’s chapped lips and stubble only make him ache more. It’s too much, he really should stop. He pulls back slightly and Black licks forward at his mouth, he opens his mouth to it and Black keeps licking.

“You are so fucking hot.” He breathes out heavily, it’s maddeningly seductive saying everything finally that he could never say before, he feels drunk on it, and it’s making more talkative than he would usually be.

“Seriously, your body is just … I’ve thought of this. A lot.”

Black says nothing just groans, his fingers on his neck cradling the base of Snape’s head as he kisses him again, but if anything he starts rubbing the cleft of his ass more enthusiastically against Snape’s erection.

Soon Black is lifting up with his thighs for greater leverage. “Yes,” Black says, “Do it. I want you to.”

“Oh fuck, are you – we don’t have to do that – there’s no rush.” He wants to be careful here, he must not – he will not – do anything to hurt him.

“No no,” Black says and bites Severus’s bottom lip. “No waiting. I want you in me. No waiting Sev.”

“Are you sure? Tell me you’re sure.”

“Christ! Yes, I’m sure! Can you stop coddling me? I’m a grown ass adult man, I know what I want and what I want is for you to fuck me. Is that alright? You think you can manage that you fucking pansy?”

“Yes you son of a bitch, I think I can manage that.” Snape spits out.

“I don’t find you any less annoying. I thought I would.”

“Oh God no. Maybe more? Is that possible?”

“Is this going to be a problem?”

“We’ll see shall we?” Then, “Kiss me again Black so I forget why I hate you.”

Black does and it’s searing. God help him he forgets everything.

“God yes that’s it.” Black is saying, he’s positioned himself over his still rock hard dick and is pushing down.

“Stop that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“No, I want you like this, I don’t need anything.”

“Jesus.” He pulls Black forward. “Get off.”

He reaches for the lube that’s in the drawer next to his bed. It occurs to him that Black is going to be as obnoxious and difficult about this as he is about anything else. His heart’s beating hard. His fingers tremble. It makes it difficult to get the lube out of the jar and on to his fingers, he told Black that he would let him finger himself but greedily he wants to do it.

“Did you use that with _him_.” Black decides to say. “Because if you did I don’t want you using that on me.”

“Black – what? No ok, no.” He lies. “Stop trying to get out of using this, it’s non negotiable.”

“I like it when you give me orders.”

“You’re out of your mind.” Snape says realising he’s still fully hard. I’m as fucked up as he is, he thinks.

Black leans in and whispers in his ear. “I told you.”

He fingers Black, whispering _that’s it, good boy, you’re such a good boy_ as he does so. In the end Black doesn’t mind. He doesn’t seem to anyway.

And God Black is so tight, if he’s done this a lot it’s not recently, and the look of concentration on his face as he pushes down on him slowly, so slowly, just kills him. He’s thought so many times of what this would be like, but he didn’t picture that face, that sweet, serious, earnest face. _If I hadn’t already fallen in love with you, I would do so now_.

Black makes a small pained grunt when he bottoms out that is obviously involuntary. By now he knows better than to ask if he’s ok, or god forbid, if he wants to stop, so he settles for “you’re doing so well honey, so so good.”

Which is true, Snape’s actually very impressed.

Black steadies himself with his hands on Snape’s chest. “Shit I’ve got to stop for sec.”

He breathes steadily through it and Snape thinks about grading papers.

“Good boy, go as slow as you need to.”

“Ok, Im ok.”

“My boy, such a fucking trooper.”

“Yeah.”

“So proud of you.”

“I’m doing good?”

“So so good. So so good baby. You wanna move for daddy?”

“Mmm. Fuck.” Black breathes heavily at that. “Yeah.”

For awhile Snape’s not capable of much else than staring and heavy mouth breathing as he watches Black ride him, at first with small movements taking heavy laboured breathes, then with more confident larger ones. God, he’s good at this, he realises.

“This good baby? You like me like this?”

“Yeah, gonna come in you.”

“Yeah, but not yet.”

“You want that? You want my come in you?”

“Yeah yeah, give it.” Black’s stroking his own cock now and Snape looks up at the ceiling. _Don’t come, don’t come, if he thinks you’re good at this he will be more likely to do it again_.

“Look at me.”

“Shit yeah ok.”

“Snape.” He says.

“Yeah?”

“You’re fucking me. Finally,” he says, his eyes glazed, looks like he’s talking to himself, “finally.”

“God I’m sorry I didn’t sooner.”

“You should have, you fucking should have.”

Black’s free hand squeezes Snape’s shoulder as he presses down on him hard, “Uh, fuck.” He says. “Snape, fuck, fuck.” He fucks down twice, hard, which manages to push Snape over the precipice he’s been dangling over. He feels and sees hot come splash over his stomach and chest and he whispers _Shit yes Black, come on me_. _Come on me baby._ And his vision goes white and he pulses into that delicious tight heat.

He wakes twice during the night and reaches for Black. The last time is close to dawn and he’s getting up in a couple of hours, although they are both exhausted and half asleep, they end up with Snape almost entirely on top, right leg hooked around Blacks, rubbing himself into slowly his cleft while his hand loosely circles Blacks’ shaft, moving up an down with each long thrust. They do this sleepily for almost half an hour before either one of them comes.

 

In the morning, without the heat of last night and the cover of dark Severus feels curiously shy. He bathes then gets dressed quietly telling himself Black is still sleeping but when he looks over he’s sitting up and looking at him with a small halfsmile on his face. He tries to ignore him, not sure of what to say if he was to say anything.

“I must go,” is what he comes up with when he’s finally fully dressed. He will go straight to his first class. He’d missed breakfast on purpose preferring instead to lie within the sweet heat radiating off Black’s sleeping body and watch the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He has no qualms about this, and though his absence would be noted, he’s not a stupid man and by now he knows what things in life should take precedence.

He’s already walking to the door when, “Severus.” Then, ”come here please.”

He goes to him, of course he does.

Black moves off the bed and when he gets close enough he pulls him in.

“This isn’t going to be easy is it?” Black whispers into his neck.

“No.”

“Worth it though?”

“What do you think Black? You were there.”

“Yeah I was there.” He can hear the smile in his voice.

“Stay.” Snape says, his lips are on Blacks hairline. “Stay here while I’m gone.”

“Come back quickly.”

“I will. As soon as I can.”

“Snape?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be fooled by me. I won’t be worth it.” He’s so quiet he can barely hear him.

“I don’t care.” He whispers back.

 

Minerva walks in on him smiling goofily to himself after his second class and she gives him a sideways look. She doesn’t ask but he knows she will. He wonders what he will say – will they tell people? Is he Black’s dirty secret? He finds he actually doesn’t care if he is. He has to tell her he’s no longer leaving and that he understands if he still wants him to resign but if she doesn’t have anyone else engaged he would very much like to stay. She says of course he should stay, this job will always be his and he wonders why she doesn’t seem at all surprised.

By lunch the dull ache of missing him has become a throb, he misses him bodily, and tries not to look like he’s hurrying as he makes his way down to the dungeons but fears he fails spectacularly. He feels more vulnerable than he’s ever been in his life and it makes him nauseous, the thought of Black not being there makes him nauseous, and he’s already mentally cataloguing the places he would be if he wasn’t there and calculating the time it would take to get to each one of them. His hands are clammy and he feels light-headed and unsteady, he’s not sure why all these things together would add up to him feeling absolutely wonderful, but they do and he smiles as he opens the door to his rooms because, even if Black is gone, here in this moment he’s on the other side of this door waiting for him. Here in this moment he’s his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm honestly so amazed and excited when anyone reads my stuff so, if you did, you're beautiful and lovely and totally money. I have more (vaguely) planned for this (though it's not particularly plot driven as usual...) so it may end up being some kind of series eventually.


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